


The Hotel

by elenatria



Series: Hiddlesworth [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal, Angst, Avengers - Freeform, Bottom Chris Hemsworth, Comfort, Denial, Fingering, Fluff, Hidden Feelings, Hiddlesworth, Hotel, Infinity War press conference, M/M, Masturbation, Men's Room, Oral, Phone Sex, Rimming, Smut, blowjob, happy chat, infinity war promo tour, thor ragnarok - Freeform, thor ragnarok premiere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-03-23 08:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenatria/pseuds/elenatria
Summary: Tom hasn't smiled for a long long time. He hasn't spoken to Chris either. The truth is, Chris has a lot more to share, things Tom could never think of.Meeting after the premiere of "Thor:Ragnarok" is their last chance.





	1. The premiere

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to ["Crumbs and belly rubs"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13707372)  
> In this story it's not very clear if Chris was in a relationship or if he was married to Lisa (his OC wife). I don't like to use real wives and kids etc so I decided not to mention her much.
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://elenatria.tumblr.com/)   
> 

Tom was never much of a drinker. His favourite beverage was Earl Grey with a splash of milk and he would sip multiple cups within a day between takes, during interviews, on the sofa watching movies while Bobby snuggled up on his lap. His sole unwholesome habit was smoking, and even that wasn’t something he’d do regularly; he’d get a pack when he was visiting pubs with friends, and that was the only time when he’d also indulge himself with a glass or two of Jameson on the rocks. Still, he never drank too much; he didn’t enjoy the hangover that came with it, and it was definitely not an asset when he had to audition the following morning, as he always said.

Lately he had discovered that drinking a glass of wine a day wasn’t so bad after all; it would calm his nerves, help him sleep, and it was nothing really, just a glass. He always got insomnia when he was stressed, or when things weren’t going smoothly. The insomnia attacks were quite frequent during his second year at RADA, when he was working sixteen hours a day on all the things he didn’t love about acting, and was too exhausted and drained to enjoy his sleeping hours. As if sleeping was a luxury he didn’t allow himself to have. As if he didn’t deserve it.

That spring insomnia came back with a vengeance. He attributed it to the rise of temperature and humidity hoping it would retreat as soon as he got used to the heat. Many nights he wondered if it was just the whims of the weather and not something else, something that was still bugging him. He tried to recall the very moment when it all started; not an easy task. His year so far had been both generous and unkind but he refused to put the blame on “that January day” when he tasted triumph as well as disgrace within twenty four hours. He refused to give it much more thought – the award and the speech and the aftermath were things he had put behind him. There was also the promo tour that was approaching with relentless speed and although this time he wasn’t contractually obligated to give as many interviews as before, although Marvel were willing to let him off the hook and focus more on Taika and Chris, he could feel the familiar tension behind his right temple, a throbbing sensation that sometimes felt like needles sinking into his brain, and other times it was just drowsiness that was accompanied by a desperate need to avoid bright lights and noise.

And people.

It was just his nerves, he would reassure his mother on the phone, and it would soon go away. It did - wine helped a lot with that. Sometimes he’d drink scotch as well, just a little; the stinging liquid on his tongue would give him a boost for a few minutes before putting his mind to sleep. And it felt _good_.

That dreadful October evening there was some wine left at the bottom of the bottle when he finally managed to fall asleep, however the charm didn’t really work like it did on his early “wine-testing days” (as he’d tell his friends jokingly). He didn’t feel rested anymore when waking up, and his sleep was filled with anxiety dreams.

The loud ringing woke him abruptly from another incoherent dream and he dropped the phone on the floor as he tried to pick it up. It was dark in the hotel room but there was some light from the busy street coming through the blinds. Tom didn’t need it – didn’t _want_ it; he blindly felt the carpet before wrapping his fingers around the rectangular object that was wildly vibrating. He squinted tiredly to make out the flashy green letters on the screen – his thick glasses were left somewhere away from the sofa he had passed out on. He was glad he took them off as soon as he entered his suite after the premiere; he was certain he would break them again by rolling over them like he had done with his last pair after he had finished his bottle. He didn’t want to smash this pair too – he loved it too much. It was his mask, his beautiful protective mask; a disguise for the crowds and the paps. They wanted sexy elegant Tom sashaying down Hollywood Boulevard? Well they wouldn’t have him. Not this time.

After a couple of seconds of horrible ringing Tom’s drowsy brain was able to discern the letters on the screen.

 _CHRIS_.

“Hey, man…” he snorted sleepily rolling on his back as he brushed his fingers through his messy hair. It was about time he had a haircut, he thought, and a shave, but today was not the time. Maybe not even tomorrow, or the day after that. He still needed his mask.

“Hey, Tom,” Chris’ baritone voice pierced his ear. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, not during a hangover. “How are ya? We didn’t see you at the after party.”

“No, I was… Wait… What time is it?” he slurred.

“It’s seven in the afternoon.”

“What day is it…”

Chris sighed. “Are you alright? You weren’t yourself yesterday, and we haven’t really talked in a while so I thought-”

“I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t sleep well lately, I thought I’d catch up with some sleep.” He snorted again rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Did you guys have fun? How was the party?”

“We went for a drink at the Roosevelt with Mark and Taika and Tessa and then Liam and I went bowling. It was fun.”

“I figure it was,” Tom tried to smile but winced instead; his head was still throbbing, and he was glad Chris couldn’t see him.

“I-“ Chris paused. _“We_ missed you. You should have been there. It was a big party, everyone was there.”

Tom broke into a dry laughter, so sudden and violent that his ribs hurt; maybe it was because of having slept for more than twelve hours. He was hoping that was the only reason his whole body was feeling numb as if he had been shot with sedatives.

“I bet they were,” he chuckled. “I’m sure we can catch up tomorrow, right?”

“We won’t,” Chris interrupted him. “I’m flying back at midnight.”

A punch in the stomach, so strong that it took away all the numbness. Tom sat up on the sofa, his naked feet rubbing the carpet idly. He realized he wasn’t running his fingers through his hair anymore – he was _fisting_ it, as if trying to make the headache go away, focusing more on the external pain. As soon as he put his hand back on the sofa sobriety kicked back in – and it was painful. He reached for his glasses.

“What-what do you mean you’re flying back tomorrow?” he stuttered as he fidgeted with the temples, trying to unfold them with one hand without dropping them on the floor.

“I told you yesterday,” Chris complained. “At the El Capitan, before the premiere. Weren’t you listening?”

Tom put on his glasses and opened his mouth – he would have sputtered a few more apologetic words like he always did when he felt nervous, if only he could speak. He scratched his head vigorously in an attempt to distract himself from the massive headache that was overwhelming him.

“I’m- really sorry…” he winced again closing his eyes, gulping back a sob. “Listen. I… Uh… I thought-”

“Are you still at the hotel?”

“I am.” Tom stood still and glanced out at the night lights. He was still too tired to get up and open that window for a bit of fresh air – and god knows he was _desperate_ for it.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t go anywhere,” the deep voice said before hanging up.

 

He thought of taking a shower before Chris came - after twelve hours of sleeping he was bound to smell horribly, but a shower might take too long. Then he thought of shaving but dismissed the idea as ridiculous. He had been sporting the beard for a couple of months now and he wouldn’t have Chris think he had done any changes to his new image because of _him_. Chris always teased him for his patchy beard but this was Tom’s way of saying no, no to everyone. Even to Chris.

The discreet knock on the door startled him and made him drop everything: the pillows, the sheets, the empty bottles - that moment he felt grateful for the carpet that prevented them from getting smashed on his bare feet. How ridiculous he would look to Chris, he thought.

He gave himself another frantic minute before he could make the place look decent, and opened the door pushing his hair back casually.

“Heyyyyyy, Chris, come in,” he said baring his teeth. A broad smile, the broadest he could muster.

Chris didn’t look as cheerful. He was wearing a grey hoodie that looked a lot like the one he wore during filming in the busy streets of Brisbane, and a pair of jeans. He walked in, hands in his pockets, and looked around. “A bit dark in here,” he murmured finally.

 _“Yes,_ I’m sorry, I was drowsing a bit.”

Chris walked past the sofa inspecting the room and peered out of the window.  He sniffed the air looking for a scent that wasn’t there anymore. “We were looking for you yesterday,” he said at last. “You didn’t join us when we were taking selfies with Taika, and you were nowhere to be found after we exited the theatre.”

“Yes, I was taking a few pics with fans, and after the film was over I gave a couple of interviews. I just lost you guys, and I was so tired I thought I might as well come back here, get some rest.”

“You weren’t answering our _calls,”_ Chris insisted. He was trying really hard not to sound like he was complaining. Just plain concern, that’s all.

Tom grimaced more than grinned as he squeezed his lips tight, and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened. He looked tired. “I had silenced it during the movie, then I forgot to turn the ringer back on, sorry.”

Chris looked around frustrated and shook his head. He opened his mouth and closed it again trying hard not to say too much. “Stop… Stop saying you’re sorry. Stop it right there.” He rubbed his temple as if buying time to find the right words. “This- this has been going on for some time now, Tom…” he said. “We barely talked at ComicCon, everybody thought I was bonding with Mark and Taika and you were just sitting there and…”

Tom lowered his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. He knew what he was about to hear and gave an apologetic nod biting his lip, as if he was trying to avoid the blame, the confrontation. He knew it wouldn’t work this time; he knew he couldn’t fool Chris anymore.

“You’ve been avoiding _me_ for some time now,” Chris insisted. “We need to talk.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Talking?” Tom dodged indifferently.

“Shut up,” Chris lashed out. “Just… shut up.”

Tom furrowed his brow at the insult without taking his hands out of his pockets, offended, waiting patiently for an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” Chris continued. “I thought… I thought-“

“What did you think, Chris?” Tom goaded him and folded his arms across his chest. “That we were back together? Or that we were finally going to live happily ever after?”

Chris gave him a fierce glare. “I never asked you for a happily ever after…”

“No,” Tom shook his head, anger welling up in his chest. “You always said ‘Let’s do this while it lasts, Tom. Let’s do this when we’re together.’ We did it when we were together, right? L.A., Albuquerque, Iceland, Brisbane, Byron Bay. Wasn’t that enough for you? Wasn’t that all you ever wanted?”

“It was _never_ enough for me and you know it,” Chris growled. “But I had no choice, you know that too. I had to go back to her.”

“Well I rid you of having to make a choice yourself, didn’t I…” Tom spat. “I was no trouble to you. I played nice.”

“You didn’t-“ Chris scratched his beard agitated, looking around as if the right answer was written on the walls. “I didn’t want you to ‘play nice.’”

“You were living your life and I lived mine.”

“You mean Taylor was ‘living your life? ’” Chris gave him a sarcastic smile. “And the shitstorm that came with her? Jesus, this is insane…”

“It was my. _Choice_ ,” Tom raised his voice unable to hide his anger any longer. “My. Fucking. Choice. At least I owned it. Unlike you, I took the shit that came with it and I owned it. You’re here because… because you-you can’t live with your own choices - well I can live with _mine!”_

Tom was roaring now. Roaring and sobbing. He didn’t even care if the maids in the corridors heard them. Chris didn’t respond; he was always so aloof, so laid back, so calm. Tom hated him for that – for not having one outburst of jealousy, one moment of fear or doubt, and if he did, he would hide it very well. Did Tom’s words even get through to him?

Chris gave him a bitter smile and looked down, where his foot had bumped on the waste bin. He bent down and picked up one of the empty bottles. He stared at it for a couple of seconds before turning to Tom again.

“You call this living with your choices?” he lamented and his voice was softer.

Tom closed his eyes, defeated, causing a tear to run down his cheek.

“How long has this been going on, Tom?” Chris asked without making any attempt to hide his concern anymore.

“Since spring,” Tom confessed with a broken voice, and he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. “Or February, I don’t know.”

Chris put the bottle back into the waste bin and bit his finger avoiding Tom’s eyes, wincing with guilt. “We haven’t spoken much since Brisbane, have we…” he muttered.

“Not since you called me on Saint Valentine’s, no,” Tom replied.

Chris took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets considering his friend. Then he paced across the room, stopping here and there, trying to find reasons to start talking again, changing his mind all the time.

“You remember everything, don’t you…” he said eventually trying to joke, to tease. “Birthdays, quotes, names. You never seem to forget. The pubs we visited together, the wine brands we tasted, everything… Everything I ever told you. You never forget a thing.”

“It’s my curse,” Tom replied with an apologetic smile rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. 

Chris glanced at him. It occurred to him that they hadn’t done this in a while – smile at each other. He rubbed his brow with his thumb, an awkward childish gesture.

“I wish I had been more of a friend to you, yeah,” he said avoiding Tom’s gaze. “I guess… I guess you wanted – you _needed_ something more than just a mate who cracks jokes all the time. If you think that what I felt – what I feel for you is shallow… I wouldn’t blame you, it’s what I have people think, that I don’t care enough. It seems I can be so attentive and listen to people I hardly know. But when it comes to the people I _really_ care about-“

“Oh no, Chris,” Tom took a step towards him trying to soothe him. He could never watch Chris being sad for more than two minutes, it was breaking his heart. He could take all the blame and all the hurt in the world – but watching Chris do the same? He wouldn’t have it, no, it was just too much, it was the one thing that could break him. “I never thought you didn’t care.”

“You did,” Chris nodded, but there was no bitterness in his smile. “And it’s alright. It’s what I wanted you to think. So you see, I’m kind of responsible for what happened to us.”

Tom froze. “What?... Why?”

Chris licked his lips and bit them and licked them again. “I could see how much you needed me, and I didn’t want you to get too attached. You see… I was growing attached too.”

Tom’s blue eyes were shimmering feverishly in the half-lit room like two pools of despair. “What are you talking about?”

“You and I… We met during a strange period in my life. I was about to commit. I had to take some decisions. And the worst part is I could never tell her about us.”

Tom shook his head, his eyes growing bigger and bigger, his pain digging deep inside him. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt, Chris? I would have stopped before we even started if you had.”

Chris gave him a sad smile. “And miss out on having you, being with you? I know I was a selfish bastard for doing that, for wanting it all, for not letting you know how torn I was. I’m so sorry, Tom, so fucking sorry.”

Tom was left speechless. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose; the splitting headache had been replaced by the exquisite pain of unspoken words, by the bitter taste of betrayal. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this new wave of anger would give him enough strength to finally punch Chris in the face. But he couldn’t even lift his arm – he couldn’t do anything anymore.

When he put his glasses back on he was calm. “You have a flight to catch,” he said icily.

“No, Tom,” Chris shook his head, upset with this new turn of things. “Don’t do this, don’t send me away. I’ve worked too hard to build up the courage to talk to you now.”

Tom let out a sarcastic chuckle. “And what do you want, a medal? Do you know what I’ve been through all these years, chasing after you, not knowing how you felt? I had to lose you every few months each time the shoot wrapped. I had to get used to not being with you sixteen hours a day, for months on end. I had to get used to saying goodbye and going back to my life every single time and missing you for _weeks_. And getting used to not needing you… that was the hardest part, Chris. That’s what’s hurting me right now, that you want me to get used to you again. But I won’t allow it this time, you have no idea what it’s like. ”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Chris insisted. “I _know,_ I always knew what it’s like. I was just… scared to be like you. It takes a lot of courage to be you, Tom, unafraid of your feelings, of the world. It takes a lot of courage to show you _care_. This is who you are and I love you and I envy you for that.”

Tom shook his head biting his lip in disappointment. “It’s a bit too late, don’t you think? To take it all back. It would have been great if there was no pain involved but here we are, discussing the pain you… caused me because you were ‘afraid’. Well I was never afraid to show my feelings for you, not in public, not in private. I-I know we’re not the same,” (he was finding it hard to breathe now), “and I never expected you to be as affectionate as I was but-but… Damn you, Chris… You could have said something, you could have… You-you could have-”

They were so different yet this was one of the things they had in common; they could never watch each other suffer. Chris could almost hear Tom’s heart breaking, and the tears in his friend’s eyes were the most hurtful thing he had ever witnessed. He couldn’t take it any longer; he pulled and gripped him with his massive arms before Tom could react. He let him bury his face in his neck, wrap his arms around his broad back like an abandoned child and sob freely, uncontrollably. He brushed his hand through Tom’s hair rocking him gently in his arms like a baby and kissed his tear-stained cheek again and again.

“I’m sorry, Tom…” he kept whispering through his own tears. “I’m really really sorry.”

When the sobbing gave way to deep sighs and Tom’s strong grip was replaced by wandering hands moving softly, timidly, up and down his back, Chris pulled away just a little, just enough to look into Tom’s eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “Just so you know. You can’t make me.”

“You have a flight to catch…” Tom sighed.

“I don’t.” Chris took out his phone, pressed on the digits for a minute that seemed like an eternity, and finally showed Tom the cancellation of his air ticket to Australia. “As I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tom laughed through his tears. “You can’t do this - _we_ can’t do this. It won’t be easy.”

“I just did. And I don’t care,” he murmured kissing Tom’s cheeks, his forehead, his lips, his bearded chin, every inch of his face, “I don’t care, Tom, I don’t care.”

Chris deepened the kiss when Tom finally responded to his hunger by opening his mouth more, letting him in. A tiny gasp escaped his lips as he felt Chris licking and sucking on his neck, hands sliding down his back, his ass, squeezing him, looking for ways to slip under the clothes. Chris nuzzled his chin and neck making him tilt back his head.

“S-sorry about the beard,” Tom whispered almost out of breath.

“I love your beard,” Chris’ soft words tickled Tom’s skin and made him shiver with anticipation as his mate fondled his crotch making him hard with just a few rubs. “I love you, Tom, I love you. I love everything about you.”

Chris kept nipping at his neck as he unbuckled Tom’s belt and pushed his hand into his trousers, tracing his shaft with his fingers, wrapping them around his tip, jerking him gently, patiently.

“OH. _Uh…”_

Tom’s soft whimpers of pleasure made Chris even harder, and he pushed the other hand into Tom’s trunk, reaching for his balls, squeezing them lightly, enjoying the heat and their incredible tantalizing softness. He had missed touching Tom like that, his delectable vulnerability. He had missed making him sigh so desperately, making him melt in his arms, feeling his hot breathing on his shoulder. He was rubbing him fast now, so fast that Tom’s breath hitched. Tom wrapped his arms around his neck trying to hold on to something. He hid his face in Chris’ chest, panting, gasping every time his friend squeezed a bit harder.

“Oh Chris…” he moaned as he rocked his hips back and forth, fucking that firm hand with feverish strokes, faster and faster and faster. “Don’t stop Chris don’t stop oh god _oh g- uuuuuuh…”_

“Let’s go to the sofa…” Chris breathed in his ear as he kept fondling him and gave his ass a naughty little slap before squeezing him again.

They were lovers again. They were back in Iceland. And Brisbane. And Albuquerque.

It wasn’t long before Chris was standing on his knees in front of that sofa swallowing him whole, enjoying the salty pre-cum deep inside his throat.  Tom’s glasses were safely folded on the table and his knees spread apart, his jeans forming a bundle around his right ankle (Chris didn’t even have the patience to remove them completely – he wrapped his lips around that delicious throbbing cock as soon as he cast his eyes on naked flesh). Tom threaded his fingers through Chris’ hair, not only to urge him to take him in as deeply as he could, to let him fuck his mouth, but also because he knew Chris liked to feel a possessive grip on his head; it turned him on when Tom was dominant like that, when he felt fingers making circles around the sensitive tips of his ears. Chris had fantasized more than once being fucked by him - his cock twitched eagerly at the thought. They had never tried that before, he had never let go. Now he had Tom’s hard-on deep in his mouth, and his own in his hand, and he was pleasuring them both with frantic moves. He gave Tom’s member the best treatment he could using both his hand and his lips and he was rewarded with deep lustful sighs and hands pushing his head down ever harder. The more he thought of Tom’s cock splitting his ass apart the faster he jerked them both. Then he felt Tom spasming, clenching his butt as he came first spraying his cum deep inside Chris’ throat, almost choking him, his desperate moaning filling the room just as his load was filling Chris’ hungry mouth. But Chris didn’t pull away just yet – not before he had swallowed every drop of sperm coming out of that glorious cock, not before he had enjoyed every last one of Tom’s sweet orgasmic cries. And now that it was his turn he made Tom bend over the sofa, making the entrance sleek and ready with his adept tongue, fingering him wildly until Tom’s hole was wide enough and loose enough to take him all in, inch by sublime inch, until Chris buried himself inside him with a deep long sigh, closing his eyes as he was pleasantly shocked by that tightness, enjoying the warmth around him.

“I… missed you…” he breathed in Tom’s ear as he started ramming his ass, pounding into him like it was nothing, like he was riding a wave on a hot summer day.

“I m- _UH!_ \- m-missed you too…” Tom grunted feeling his hole stretched by that relentless thickness, reaching behind him to grab Chris’ ass, encouraging him to slam into him, to thrust harder. He felt Chris’ breath hitching with lustful surprise at his slutty behaviour, and smiled.

Chris didn’t need to be told twice; with one long push he completely lost himself inside Tom, reaching such depths that made Tom cry out in pain; a pain that was soon replaced with ecstasy. Once more his neglected cock was hard - and wanting.

“Touch yourself…” Chris urged him as he grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled Tom’s hips up against his pelvis. “And touch me too while you do that.”

Tom obeyed. He started stroking himself and sank deeper into the sofa so as to reach Chris’ balls with his other hand. Chris gasped at the double sensation of his cock inside Tom’s ass and his balls being fondled simultaneously. When he realized he was reaching the point of no return he bent over Tom grabbing him by the hair, forcing him to tilt back his head with a small angry cry, softly biting his ear.

 _“I’m. Not. Going. ANYWHERE…”_ he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking each word into Tom as if sealing the deal with permanent ink, as if carving his words in stone. “You don’t forget a thing I say, well here’s another thing for you to remember - _fuck_ , Tom, you’re so tight… Oh fuck… Oh…”

Unable to utter a single word Tom grunted and grabbed Chris’ ass again wantingly, yearning to be savaged, _begging_ to be destroyed.

_“Ugh…”_

With one final thrust Chris reached his peak, closing his eyes. He moaned and panted helplessly on Tom’s sweaty back, his pleasure doubled by Tom’s ecstatic whimpering. They had finished together and that was more than Chris had expected when he entered that hotel room an hour ago. Now his air ticket to Australia was cancelled, his cock was buried deep inside Tom and sated, and his friend was gasping for air, his head sinking between his shoulders, his voice husky with exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” he murmured as he planted soft kisses on Tom’s back.

“Yes…” Tom panted resting his forehead on the back of the sofa. “Yes I’m alright…” He would stay there for a little longer, eyes pressed hard on his wrists, sweat running down his temples, chest heaving, mouth gaping for air. “I’m alright I’m…I’m alright…”

Chris rolled on his side sitting beside him on the sofa, caressing his back as he examined the mess he had made all around him, on the cushions, on the carpet, on Tom’s crack, literally _everywhere_.

“Oh god if the maids see this-“ he joked covering his eyes with one hand, the other still resting on Tom’s naked skin.

“They won’t,” Tom reassured him as he turned to sit down on the sofa, still panting. He put on his glasses. “We’ll clean up a bit. I’m done with people nosing into my private life.” He stopped to look at Chris’ face - his blue eyes were glinting playfully, but there was something else;  they were glazed with desire - _again_.

“Don’t wear those glasses when you’re naked - unless you want to be fucked senseless again,” he warned Tom who blushed immediately. Chris couldn’t believe his eyes – after all they had done Tom could still blush.

Tom lowered his eyes and broke into laughter – and it was such a relief for Chris to watch him laugh again after all those months. To witness that beautiful majestic grin.

“I’m glad to know I can still make you laugh,” Chris said caressing his shoulder with the back of his fingers. “It’s great to see you smile, Tom.”

“I do smile,” Tom replied, and his eyelids went heavy with melancholy. “But only to those who matter.”

“I promised I won’t be going anywhere,” Chris reminded him caressing Tom’s neck, drawing him closer. “But do you promise? Do you promise to smile more? Laugh more?...”

Tom adjusted his glasses on his nose and stared deep into Chris’ eyes.

“Only when you’re around, Chris,” he said and smiled again, and it was the biggest, most genuine smile Chris had ever seen on that beautiful face. “Only when you’re around.”

 


	2. The list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

It was seven in the morning but their floor was still peaceful; no vacuuming in the corridors, no knocking on doors to change the sheets, no grinding from the elevators. Just the distant humming from the busy street down below and the occasional vibrating from Chris’ phone. He never seemed to turn it off but this time he decided to put it on silent for the rest of that glorious day. He wouldn’t have anyone interrupting them, not when they had wasted so much time apart.

His huge arm, resting on the pillow, was wrapped around Tom’s head as he played with his brown unkempt curls with the tips of his fingers. Tom’s glasses were safely placed on the bedside table but he wasn’t sleeping, he was busy playing with the buttons on Chris’ shirt and burying his face in his neck giving it tiny pecks, making him warm inside but Chris was too sleepy to do anything about it. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes - he had left the suitcase in his hotel.

 _“Armadillo,”_ Tom murmured in his cheek.

“Uuuuuuh…” Chris tried to think. “Toby Sherrifmoore.”

“Sherrifmuir,” Tom corrected him.

“Aaaah right…” Chris said rubbing his eye. “What kind of name is Sherrifmuir anyway...”

“Go on,” Tom urged him, sniggering. _“The Gathering Storm.”_

“Ah that’s an easy one, Churchill,” Chris grinned with pride.

“And the first name?”

“It’s not Winston…?” Chris winced apologetically.

“No, Chris, I played his son, not the man himself. It’s Randolph. Randolph Churchill.” He shook his head in fake disappointment but he refrained from smiling – he was determined he wouldn’t make it easy for his lover. Not this time. _“Suburban Shootout,”_ he continued.

“Bill Hazledine, Jesus, Tom, what kinds of names did the writers give your characters?” Chris complained. “I’d never be able to memorize the pronunciation, let alone their lines.”

“You’re dodging, you won’t win this game unless you remember them all.”

 _“Fine…”_ Chris snorted.

 _“Miss Austen Regrets,”_ Tom smiled biting his lip – he knew Chris wouldn’t be able to pronounce that one even if he remembered it.

“Really, Tom?...” Chris rebuked him. “Really? You don’t expect me to pronounce _that_ name, do you?”

“No,” Tom smiled from ear to ear. “But I expect you to _remember_ it.”

“Plump… Plumage… P-Plummm…” Chris stuttered.

“Plumptre. John Plumptre,” Tom said. “Ok that one was difficult, we’re not counting that. Next… _Wallander.”_

 _“Wallander?...”_ Chris raised a brow trying to buy time.

“Wallander,” Tom nodded. “C’mon that one’s easy, it was my first collaboration with Ken.”

“Ah yesssss,” Chris said pleased with his good memory. “Magnus. Magnus Martinsson.”

“Good!...” Tom encouraged him. “ _Very_ good! Next, _Archipelago.”_

“Ah ah ah!” Chris lifted a finger in front of Tom’s nose. “What was the agreement? A kiss for every five names I got right.”

Tom’s smile broadened. “Alright.”

It was an old habit of theirs to play silly games in bed before getting up in the morning or after making love. Whoever lost would wash the dishes that day, and if he was a sore loser he would wash the dishes for the whole week. An old game from their happy Iceland days. But Chris’ favourite part was when he was winning – and the prize would almost exclusively be kisses, long make out sessions or just plain fucking. It’s not like Tom didn’t enjoy those too, it’s just that there were times when he’d rather be learning his lines or working out. But whenever he agreed to play games he knew those mundane things had to wait.

This one was different though, it was a memory game, one that Chris was certain to lose since remembering stuff wasn’t his forte. However he was doing his best, learning by heart Tom’s roles for the first time in his life – and making up for lost time.

Chris traced Tom’s lips with his tongue as he unfolded his arm to reach behind the curly head and held Tom’s bearded chin with the other hand. When he had his fill of Tom’s taste, when the warmth in his groin started getting dangerously pleasurable he broke the kiss, left his phone back on the pillow and resumed playing with Tom’s curls, trapping them between his fingers and letting them slide through them.

Tom was now using Chris’ muscular arm as a pillow. “Where were we…” he breathed licking the last traces of Chris’ flavour from his lips. “Ah yes. _Midnight in Paris.”_

“Pffffft that’s an easy one,” Chris sneered. “F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

“You’re right, that one was easy, let’s not count that.”

 _“What?”_ Chris objected. “If you don’t count that you’re out of my bed.”

 _“My_ bed, you mean,” Tom giggled.

“If you don’t count it I’ll turn the ringer on and I’ll answer all my calls.”

Tom laughed pretending to be offended by the threat. “That’s not fair.”

“Then give me my point!” Chris insisted bumping his forehead against Tom’s repeatedly. “F. Scott Fitzgerald, c’mon!”

“Alright alright, you got your point. _War Horse.”_

Chris rolled his eyes. “Easy. Nicholls. _Neeeext.”_

_“Only Lovers Left Alive.”_

“Adam. Next.”

_“Coriolanus.”_

Chris cocked an eyebrow but his certainty soon turned to doubt. “Are you sure it isn’t… just… Coriolanus?”

“No,” Tom laughed, “you need to find me his first and middle name.”

“Ugh!” Chris exclaimed and rolled on his back covering his face with one hand. He turned to Tom again. “I know. I know. Nortius Maximus.”

Tom burst into laughter. “N-no,” he shook his head.

Chris contemplated hard before answering. “Hm. Biggus Dickus!”

“No, Chris, look, are we going to play or not?”

“Alright _alright!”_ Chris raised his hands in surrender. “Wasn’t it something like… Marcus…?”

 _“Martius,”_ Tom corrected him. “Caius Martius Coriolanus.”

“Damn, I knew that…” Chris shook his fist.

 _“Muppets Most Wanted,”_ Tom continued.

“The Great Escapo,” Chris said wiggling his eyebrows smugly. “You said that at Wizard World. See? There’s something I remembered, that day wasn’t a total disaster after all.” He stood on one elbow and caressed Tom’s cheek, slightly pushing his thumb between his lips. “Ok that’s five, open up.”

Tom laughed as he opened his mouth to take in Chris’ tongue that was now determined to go deeper than before. Tom closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure. Once more Chris’ hand reached behind his head, feeling the pillow blindly, searching for something Tom couldn’t see. When he realized something was distracting his Aussie lover he raised his head just enough to discover Chris’ secret. Dear old Hemsy was scrolling down Tom’s imdb page.

“You bloody bastard, you’re cheating!” he shouted furiously. He grabbed a pillow and hit Chris with it. “Is that how you remembered all the names?”

 _“No!-Tom!-AH!-Listen!”_ Chris tried to disarm him but he couldn’t escape his incessant pillow blows. _“Not_ -STOP IT!- Not all of them- _stop-_ STOP IT!”

But Tom was unstoppable, he now had two pillows in his hands and was hitting Chris mercilessly until he made him fall on his back.

“Tom, stop, you’ll break your glasses!” Chris warned him protecting his face with his forearms.

“I’m not-wearing-any-glasses-you- _BASTARD!”_ Tom shouted and kept hitting him with more pillows until Chris was completely covered with them. Tom crouched over him pinning him to the mattress; they both burst into laughter and rolled on their backs. Tom turned to him trying to catch his breath. Chris removed the pillows that separated them and shifted his weight towards Tom’s body - the next moment he was riding him and brushing a finger over his lips.

“Shall we continue?...” he whispered, eyes half-closed, teasing Tom’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I saw the light – Hank Williams.” He fisted Tom’s hair sucking on his bottom lip. “High Rise – Robert Laing. _Ugh…”_ Now he was rocking his hips against Tom’s bulge that was growing hard against his own. “Crimson Peak – Thomas Sharpe.” Tom let a faint sigh escape his lips; it was getting harder to keep track of the names even if they were all his own characters - Chris made sure the delightful friction between their bodies was more fascinating than a silly name game. He was making circles with his pelvis so that his cock, trapped, suffocating in his trousers, didn’t miss an inch of Tom’s hardness. “The Night Manager – Jonathan P-Pine _… Pine… Oh,”_   he whispered and smiled watching Tom lose control, one name at a time. “See?” he panted. “I remember everything. Kong – James Conrad – _uh,_ Tom, you’re so hot down there…” he said shoving a hand between them, adjusting his hard-on so that he could feel maximum pleasure.

 _“Ugh.”_ Tom’s breath hitched as Chris relieved him of his pajama bottoms trapping his body on the mattress with his weight. “Chris…”  He bit his lip mischievously and helped Chris remove his jeans as he enjoyed the feel of that firm ass filling his hands, his eyes half-closed and fixed on that huge manhood rising in front of him, threatening to split him in half in a matter of seconds, mesmerized, filled with want and anticipation.

He started to unbutton his pajama shirt but when he was down to the last button Chris grabbed his wrist. “… Don’t take it off…” he suggested in a dark lustful tone, his eyes glazed with desire.

Tom let the button go idly and watched Chris’ determined look as he pulled his shirt down, exposing the shoulders and the chest completely, aroused by Tom’s titillating half nudity. He swayed his head from side to side staring at Tom’s face, contemplating an idea.

“Put on your glasses…” he said eventually.

Tom blinked, hard and ready as he realized Chris wanted to fuck him with his pajama on, half-naked and vulnerable, his own member now throbbing with a sudden rush of blood. Chris lowered his head to look at the sleek tip that was twitching eagerly against his stomach and smiled. “Don’t worry,” he muttered as he reached for the glasses on the bedside and adjusted them on Tom’s nose. “I’ll try not to break them…”

Tom had spent the last twelve hours being in awe of Chris’ skills, admitting with a bit of chagrin that his old friend seldom remembered names and roles and things he had told him, but he would never forget what Tom liked in bed and how to please him, how to make him beg for more. For all the months they had spent apart, every time Chris’ lips wrapped around his cock they would instantly find their place around that hardness remembering and performing all the tricks, all the tiny movements that would instantly send Tom to heaven. Chris didn’t only take it deeply into his throat, he also wrapped his lips on the side of Tom’s manhood licking its entire length from top to bottom like a popsicle, making him writhe with pleasure. As he was sucking Tom frantically, showing no mercy, extracting desperate sighs and grunts that would encourage him to work even harder, Tom would arch his back and buck his hips with such force that he would make Chris choke. Still, the more violent the thrusts got, the harder Chris would suck, holding Tom down by his wrists, lifting his head only to watch Tom’s pajama top creasing and stretching in his armpits, his erect nipples bathed in sunlight and his glasses getting foggier every minute as he mouthed Chris’ name through ecstatic moans - that precious five-letter word that would escape his lips in a feverish stuttering whenever the walls of that delectable adept mouth squeezed tight around him, sucking the life out of him, forcing every last breath out of his lungs.

Tom, breathing hard and fast, blinked with an almost surprised “Oh!...”, then closed his eyes as he came in Chris’ mouth.

Gulping down his hot cum was something Chris would never miss out on, especially when Tom’s climax was enhanced by having his hole fingered fervently, ruthlessly. Chris enjoyed the tiny cries that came with the flood of sperm that was now filling his throat as Tom closed his eyes in blissful abandonment. The longer the orgasmic cries the harder Chris would get, his own cock throbbing with anticipation as he watched his lover moan and sigh and fall back on the pillow, disheveled, exhausted. And after Tom was done and panting and his seed was all over the place, Chris would let him rest and recover just enough to make him hard and willing again, and sometimes it would take mere minutes before he rolled him on his chest and slammed those perky hips against his own, driving his dick deep into that tight little heaven. He knew how to find his way inside him without hurting Tom – or maybe just enough to make his body squirm before it finally let go, before it accepted inevitably the way things were, before welcoming Chris’ hot hard length with the eager repetitive jerking of his own hips. Tom would sometimes cry out in pain but before long those cries would turn to deep throaty sighs until his body was swept again by the hot orgasmic wave leaving him breathless, paralyzed, gratified.

Those were the moments when Tom would even forget his own name.

And Chris was always there to make him remember it as he breathlessly uttered those three letters, again and again and again, until the room was filled with that sacred, softly spoken word.

“Tom… Oh…”

 

_Tom._

When Tom came round with sweat drying on his forehead, his breathing growing steadier, his throat dry, he opened his eyes only to see Chris, still gloriously naked, tapping on his phone again.

“Will you ever be done with that?” he scolded him, exasperated.

“Shush – _shhhhh_ …” Chris quickly put a finger on his lips furrowing his brow without taking his eyes off the screen. “This is important, I can’t miss this.”

“You can text again later, Jesus, give us a moment just this once…” Tom said and turned to the other side patting the pillow angrily where his cheek came to rest.

“There,” Chris said after a few minutes grinning happily, “done,” and he put the phone down. He slipped his arms around Tom’s ribs pulling him against his chest apologetically, his bearded chin brushing Tom’s cheek with a silly smile. He kissed him behind the ear.

“Don’t be mad...”

“I’m not. It’s just that I see… some things never change.”

“Did I ever ask you to change anything?” Chris purred.

Tom frowned. “No, you never asked me to change anything. At the same time I never knew if you… What you _truly_ liked about me.”

Chris guffawed, his ribs shaking, but he didn’t let go of him. “Do I really have to tell you what I love about you? Do I have to make a list?”

Tom turned around to face him. “Yes,” he nodded. “Yes you have to make a list.”

Chris chuckled. “I told you so many times in the past that I loved you.

“But c’mon, there was no detail in it, why or how,” Tom explained.

“I see…” Chris smiled and rested his cheek on Tom’s, drawing him closer, wrapping his arms tighter around him. “For starters… I love what you’ve done with the beard.”

“C’mon…” Tom said incredulously.

“No, I do!”

“You always called me ‘Patches’.”

“That _doesn’t_ mean I didn’t like it,” Chris insisted. “I don’t care what people say, I like scruffy you, unkempt you. I like you in jeans, I like you in shorts, I like you in hoodies. Not that I don’t like you in suits. But when I see you in a suit, a three-piece, a tux, damn, even when you’re wearing a simple waistcoat all I can think of is getting you out of it as soon as possible and I honestly can’t have a boner every hour of the day.”

Tom burst into laughter. “Go on…”

“I love your glasses but you figured that out already. The first time I saw you in them I thought you were smoking hot and you should be wearing them all the time. But I guess I never told you, right?...”

“No you didn’t. But I figured you liked them a lot, maybe a bit _too_ much…” Tom said cheekily adjusting them on his nose as he wiggled his hips against Chris’ pelvis just enough to make his point.

Chris laughed and answered by wrapping his long legs around Tom’s. “What else… I love your eyes and your smile BUT you’ll never hear me say that because you’ve heard it a thousand times already and I wouldn’t want to be boring.”

“Ah yes, never one for cliché compliments, right?” Tom teased him.

 _“NEVER._ And I haven’t even reached the top of my list yet.” Chris sighed brushing his lips over Tom’s hair lazily. “I love the way you curl up in my arms when you fall asleep. I like the sound of your breathing in the dead of night. I like the fact that I cannot see you but I can feel you, and your scent is the first thing that hits me even before I open my eyes in the morning. I missed your scent, Tom, I truly did.”

Tom squeezed Chris’ arm pressing it against his chest.

“I missed yours too…” he muttered. “Words cannot describe how much I did. I wish… I wish we had never been apart.”

“Maybe it’s not too late…”

A knock on the door cut them off.

“Oh shit, it must be the maid," Chris said, "quick go tell her I’m still sleeping before she unlocks the door, go go, you’re the one wearing clothes, I can’t get up like this!” Chris urged him panicking.

“I’m not wearing them, I need to put my trousers on!”

“Then put them on, QUICK!!!”

Chris pushed him out of bed and covered himself with the sheets. Tom pulled up his pajama bottoms and rushed to the door.

“Coming!”

When he opened the door he found a young man with long hair in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt holding a tiny wood box.

“Uh- good morning,” he said, “is this Tom-” He unfolded a creased piece of paper and read, “Is this Tom Hiddleson?”

“Tom Hiddleston, yes, that’s me.”

“This is for you, sir,” the lad said and handed him the box.

“Who is this from?” Tom said narrowing his eyes in utter puzzlement. “Who told you I was here?”

“We got an online order, said it was urgent,” the boy replied scratching his head, “all I know is the name of the person I should hand it to.”

“Ok… Thank you. Have a good morning,” Tom muttered, still bewildered as he closed the door. “What the hell is this…”

“Open it,” Chris urged him shrugging casually. He was sitting up on the bed now, back against the wall, sheets folded under his naked pecs and arms.

Tom glanced at him and opened the box to find a platinum ring. His eyes opened wide. “It can’t be…”

“Yes it can,” Chris grinned and nodded, pleased with Tom’s reaction.

“C’mon, Chris,” Tom objected while barely hiding his broad smile, “you once told me you’d never do a thing like that.”

Chris shrugged. “So I did.”

“And that it was too cheesy for you.”

“It still is,” Chris laughed. “But we don’t have to marry, y’know? Not unless we feel like it. Not unless _you_ want it. I just want to see you wear it, nothing more. I never gave you a _big_ present, well here it is. Your much belated birthday present. I mean I’m only-” he closed one eye wincing, trying to think. “-nine months late.”

Tom shook his head laughing. “Chris, you’re such a dork.” He sat on the bed beside him, eyes fixed on that priceless piece of jewellery.

“Go on!” Chris said. “You’re not expecting _me_ to put it on your finger, are you? Put it on.”

Tom couldn’t stop smiling. He slid the ring on his finger and twisted his wrist to look at it from all sides. “It feels so… strange.”

“I know,” Chris agreed and gave Tom's shoulder a loving rub. “You’ll get used to it.”

“No, it feels strange… coming from you.”

“Well you always accused me of refraining from public displays of affection. Here’s a big-ass piece of jewellery to compensate for that.”

“You _are_ a goof,” Tom teased and pressed his lips against Chris', filling his nostrils with his warm scent, reminding him of everything Chris loved about him.

When they broke the kiss Chris smiled contently. “But I won’t do any kind of dancing for the public, ever, ok? Not for you, not for anyone. Even if we do get married I won’t dance, you can dance all you like but I won’t do it, Tom, I swear to god.”

Tom bent forward laughing uncontrollably. When he was finally able to catch his breath he slipped his finger beneath the lens and rubbed his eye while his ribs were still shaking with giggles. He sighed.

“Alright, Chris,” he said, “alright. I won’t make you dance for me. But can I dance for you, do you allow me? I know you hate it but-”

Chris shook his head slowly and the happiest smile Tom had ever seen bloomed across his handsome face. “I don’t hate it, Tom,” he cooed caressing Tom’s cheek with his thumb. “Didn’t you know? That was at the top of my list.”


	3. The genie from Down Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris have arranged common appearances in Shanghai and Seattle, a chance to continue where they left off. Sometimes happiness is only a phonecall away.

The dryness in his throat would be the first thing he’d be conscious of when waking up. Usually it was caused by carelessly having too many smokes the previous evening but this time it was a genuine sore throat. The day before he mistook the unexpected March sun for good weather and carelessly decided to not put on a scarf when he took Bobby walking; he regretted that now as he knew sore throats weren’t to be taken lightly and he was always prone to catching a cold, ever since he was a boy. No amount of ginger root tea, sage or echinacea would be able to soothe his pain in the following days, he knew that, and smoking would always make things worse but he had decided to not quit it, not yet. For the time being it was enough that he had quit drinking. After the Ragnarok premiere he had decided to take things slow, getting rid of one bad habit at a time.  

It was getting harder to swallow as he was waking up. He coughed. He thought of making chicken soup but it was too early to get up, his muscles were still aching from yesterday’s running.

The second thing he would be conscious of when waking up was always the reassuring metal tightness around his ring finger. He’d smile happily and stroke it without opening his eyes as if expecting Chris to emerge from the ring like a majestic genie. His smile would always broaden at the thought of a half-naked Chris with his bulging muscular arms crossed on that brick wall of a chest, oiled up from head to toe, golden bracelets around his wrists. “Your wish is my command” the gorgeous genie would say with his deep booming voice and Tom’s command right now would be Chris’ tongue at his disposal, preferably between his sleepy thighs, the perfect way to wake up on a Saturday morning. And then breakfast in bed. Maybe. The second part of the wish wasn’t obligatory though, a happy morning ejaculation in Chris’ mouth would suffice.

The third thing that would pull Tom out of dreamland for good would be the silent buzzing. Chris would never miss waking him up, wanting to be the first to call him before everyone else; it was easy, Chris’ Byron Bay afternoon coincided with Tom’s early London mornings. Sometimes a bit too early for Tom’s liking because Chris would conveniently forget to do the time conversion.

“I just missed your voice, mate,” he would say shrugging. Same old Chris, an excuse instead of an apology. But that would suffice as well for Tom knew Chris was genuinely missing him, and he was never good at time conversion anyway.

Tom searched blindly in the sheets for the phone and swiped the screen casually without opening his eyes to see who it was; he didn’t have to.

“Hey, Chris…” he said with a confident smile, imagining his own personal genie behind closed eyelids.

“Hey, Tom…” came the soft voice from the other end of the line. “Did I wake you up?”

“You did but it was about time I got up.”

“Saving your energies for the promo tour?”

“Nah, just a bit sick I guess, must have caught a cold.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. If I was over there I’d be massaging your back and chest with alcohol, make it all better.”

Tom chuckled. “Make it all better. You sure this thing works?”

“Hey don’t be a Doubting Thomas, _Thomas,_ it’s been around since 1860, my grandma used to do that to me and my brothers. If it worked on us it will certainly work on you.”

“Mmmm I sure wouldn’t mind getting _some_ kind of massage from you right now…” Tom moaned making sure his suggestive smirk was heard over the phone. Chris’ delightfully surprised silence offered him all the gratification he needed. He stretched his legs and placed his hand on his crotch. He was already hard.

“And what if I’m not there?” Chris finally asked lowering his voice. It sure wasn’t the first time they played this game in the last few months.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to do it myself,” Tom replied unbuttoning his pajama trousers with his slender fingers. His member was twitching, painfully erect. “Although I wish it was you tugging down my pants right now. I haven’t done this in a long long time, you know. Not unless you’re on the phone to hear my moans.”

“Tom, I…” Chris sighed hopelessly. “Don’t do this. I don’t think I even have the time for it right now.”

“Yes you do,” Tom ignored his plea as he wrapped his fingers around his throbbing tip letting out deep breaths and tiny whimpers of pleasure.  “What- _oh…_ What would you… _uh-_ do to me if you were here now?” He smiled as he heard Chris’ suppressed groan and the unbuckling of his belt.

“I’d push your hand away,” Chris said roughly, resigned.

“So harsh…” Tom said closing his eyes as his chest heaved. “Why?” he breathed moving his hand up and down his shaft.

“Because there’s no way in hell you could give yourself more pleasure than I can.”

 _“And_ arrogant,” Tom added, the little tremble in his voice giving away the repetitive rubbing underneath the sheets that Chris was dying to witness in person. “How… how would you do that?” Tom continued licking his lips with a soft moan. “How would you pleasure me? I’m all… _oh…_ ears…”

Tom could almost hear him biting his lip but instead of an answer he heard Chris’ breath hitching and the wet sound of his tongue lapping at something hungrily – probably his palm. Then the slow slapping of skin against skin filled his ear. Chris had brought the phone near his cock.

“I would…” Chris took a deep breath as he jerked himself, “I would swallow you whole, your whole needy length until your hairs tickled my lips, until I felt your pulse in the back of my throat while stretching your hole with as many fingers as I could shove in. As many fingers as your greedy ass can take, and then some.”

“Are you sure my greedy ass would want that?” Tom teased. He knew he was driving Chris crazy whenever he was playing hard to get.

“I wouldn’t ask for your permission,” Chris said abruptly.

Tom sighed at Chris’ predatory roughness and his eyes fluttered shut. He traced his pulsating balls with the tips of his fingers tugging on them, massaging them. “And what would you do with my balls? Tell me…”

“I’d yank them with my mouth, sucking and pulling and swallowing them while working your cock, already slick with precum, squeezing the head until you writhed with pleasure and stretched your cheeks open for me. Then I’d watch you fuck your own hole with your fingers. I’d jerk off at the sight of you fucking yourself ‘til you’re screaming and squirming and begging me to replace your fingers. And then… _Oh god, Tom_ … And then I’d slam myself inside your needy little cunt and fuck you bare. Fuck you ‘til you bleed, until I’m balls deep inside you, until I fill you up so completely that you’ll be aching for release as I ride your willing slutty ass mercilessly. No condoms, just flesh on flesh, tearing you apart, forcing you to feel the hotness of my cock as you milk me dry, because you’ll milk me dry when I get there, Tom, I’ll make sure of tha – oh _fuck._ Oh fuck I’m coming… I’m c-coming, Tom- oh _GOD_. _AH…”_

Tom pushed two fingers in his ass and yanked his cock frantically, desperately, eager to match his own orgasmic cries with Chris’ grunts; whenever that happened, whenever they came together it was so beautiful, so unique, so pure. He shut his eyes as he pressed the phone against his ear, his hand rubbing his cock hard until it jerked pumping a thick burst of semen all over his naked chest and belly. He knew Chris would happily lap at every last drop of hot cum if he was there but he settled for their synchronized ecstatic moaning as he worked his fingers inside him, imagining Chris fucking him into the mattress through his spasms.

When he was able to form coherent thoughts again he looked numbly at his palm that was covered in his own sperm, dripping on his stomach.

“Oh god, Chris…” he panted on the phone. “That was… Oh god… that was… That was fucking incredible.”

He heard Chris taking deep breaths and chuckling from a distance - he had put the phone on speaker, probably needing both hands to wipe himself.  “What kind of language is that?” Chris told him off playfully. “I can tell you’re hanging out with the wrong crowd lately.”

“Yeah, I’m hanging out with you,” Tom teased him.

“You will be,” Chris reassured him as his voice softened, painted with love and sweet anticipation. “Soon enough. Did they tell you about Seattle in June?”

“Ace Comic Con? Yeah, they called me yesterday, glad that was finally settled. And Shanghai.”

 _“And_ Shanghai in April,” Chris confirmed. “So soon, I can’t believe it. I’m just… I’m just sorry that the last time we were together in China we didn’t have enough time to… You know… We never really talked. Not before the premiere night at the hotel anyway.”

“It’s ok,” Tom comforted him. “It’s alright. We’ll make up for lost time. This is our second chance.”

“Uh Tom…?” Chris asked steadying the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pulled up his jeans. “Did you shave your beard?... Tell me you didn’t shave… Oh Christ, Tom, you shaved, I knew it, man, I can hear it in your voice.”

“How can you possibly hear the absence of beard in my voice?” Tom giggled, surprised at Chris’ disappointment.

“Tom. _Really?..._ You always scratch your beard when talking on the phone, and I hear no scratching right now. God, Tom, I loved that beard dammit.”

“Only because it gave you one more reason to mock me,” Tom joked.

“Did I _ever_ mock you for the beard?”

_“YES, CHRIS.”_

“That was not mocking, that was… that was teasing.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Teasing is when you’re around, Tom. Mocking, obviously, is when you’re not.”

“Oh I know you mock me too, there’s no other way everyone would get to know about my battle cries,” Tom quipped with a chuckle.

“Your battle _what?”_

“My battle cries. When we were filming the Avengers.”

“Oh _those_ battle cries, right, you mean the… vigorous mewing. Honest to god, you sounded as if someone was swinging around a cat or something, I don’t even know what that was.”

“Shut up, and when you punched me in the nose? I’m sure you thought that was hilarious too.”

“Yes and you always liked to have a little whinge about it, didn’t you? I didn’t tell on you, you did.”

“Have a little…? Chris, I had rivers of blood running down my nose.”

“More like rivers of tears.”

“You’re calling me a cry baby?”

“Yes, Tom.”

“You did that on purpose, admit it,” Tom accused him, frowning.

“I’m not sure, Tom, maybe I did!” Chris huffed. “I remember you were quite annoying those days and you did encourage me to hit you.”

“Hit me, not punch me bloody.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Chris smiled as he balanced on his heels, shoving his free hand in his pocket. “I love you even without the beard, you know that, and I’ll kiss that nose a million times when I see you in a month from now.”

The change in his tone caught Tom off guard. Chris always did that, teasing him relentlessly until Tom would have none of it so Chris would take it all back with a smile, a hug and a kiss. He wasn’t there to hug him, he was miles, continents, oceans away, but Tom could feel the mellowness in Chris’ voice reaching out to him, enveloping him, warming his soul like a hot cup of morning coffee, filling him with something deeper than joy and stronger than words, something persistent enough to soften the aching need inside. Something very close to bliss.

“Wǒ ài nǐ, Tom,” Chris said softly.

“What does that mean?”

“That’s ‘I love you’ in Chinese.”

Tom rubbed Chris’ ring between his fingers. The beautiful blue-eyed genie from Down Under would finally be his again in a month from now and that was enough to make him happy. He even considered quitting smoking for a while, his mouth would be busy remembering the old familiar taste of sea and sun-kissed skin.

He closed his fist and placed the ring on his lips.

“I love you too, Chris.”


	4. Thirty minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has to attend the Infinity War screening at Television Studios in White City, London, but someone decided to make a surprise visit.

                                                                   

 

 

“Is it time already?” Chris snorted and rubbed his eye sleepily folding the blanket under his arms as a ray of weak afternoon light slid into the hotel room.

“Yes it is…” Tom muttered in a monotonous tone inserting two fingers between the blinds and scissoring them open to watch the rain fall.

“C’mon, it’s still five, come back to bed,” Chris patted the mattress next to him. “Aren’t you supposed to be there at six thirty? We have time.”

“Six. Red carpet and everything.”

“You’re going earlier for the press? I thought you had decided to tell them all to piss off.”

“I’ll be there earlier and _still_ tell them to piss off. That’s why I’m going earlier.”

Chris burst into laughter. “That will make a statement for sure. What will you do? Get out of the car for all to see and hide in the toilets until the screening?”

“No,” Tom let out a tired chuckle. “I’ll just noodle around, talk to the fans, talk to Ben and Liz. Haven’t caught up with them in a while.”

“I see…” Chris yawned, fluffed his pillow and sunk back into bed. “I’ll still miss you though,” he purred softly, hoping he could tempt Tom to stay a bit longer.

“Why don’t you come?” Tom turned, his voice suddenly betraying a hint of hope.

“I can’t…” Chris let his hands drop on the sheets with disappointment. “I’m not invited.”

“That’s nonsense. I want you there. I mean…” Tom paused, wary of his own unexpected assertiveness. “I’d love you to be there. We can all be there,” he urged Chris sitting down next to him.

“Nah we can’t,” Chris gave him a sad smile. “I’m not contractually obligated to do that, _you_ are. You and Seb and Liz and Paul and Tommy. I didn’t come to London to work, mate, I’m on vacation,” he said brushing his fingers through Tom’s hair. “I came to London to see Tom, not Marvel’s dancing monkey.”

“I’m NOT Marvel’s dancing monkey…” Tom pulled away from Chris’ touch. “Not anymore. Not more than you are.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Chris continued ignoring Tom’s harsh tone and sat up scooting closer to him. “I came to London to see Tom, to hug him, kiss him, fuck him so hard that he’ll forget about the screening and the paps and the red carpet. I’d even fuck you in the toilets if I had to, just to make you forget about it all. Just to make you smile for a while. C’mere.”

He pulled Tom in his arms and hugged him so tight, almost squeezing the air out of him.

“I wish I could stay here with you forever…” Tom murmured with a tinge of remorse in his voice. “Hide in your hotel room until everyone’s gone. I wish I didn’t have to face those spotlights and the noise and the endless screaming and the questions.”

“Have you prepared a speech?”

“Just a little thing we discussed with Tony and Joe. Make them think I’m spoiling why Loki offers up the Tesseract to Thanos.”

“What will you say?”

“That he’s forgotten his cards at home and he doesn’t have any cash and he’s bought the Avengers this pizza and now it’s like ‘What have you got?’ And he’s like, ‘Here, have the Tesseract.’”

“Oh god that’s _horrible!”_ Chris roared laughing as he covered his face in embarrassment. “Why do you like toying with your audience so much?”

“C’mon, you do that too,” Tom smirked shrugging. “It’ll be fun.”

“Oh I bet it will be…” Chris said sarcastically. “Soooo much fun. Like you lying to me on the phone about shaving your beard.”

“I… I didn’t _lie_ to you, you just assumed I had shaved the beard because I… didn’t scratch it while talking on the phone.”

“And you just went along with it, letting me believe you had shaved it, toying with my feelings about your seductive and incredibly sensual facial hair,” Chris nagged palming Tom’s bearded cheek.

Tom gave him a broad radiant smile. “You’re such a goof, Chris, you know that?”

“We don’t say goof in Australia, we say dag,” Chris corrected him caressing his lips with his thumb.

“You teaching me your slang now?”

“Well you’re moving to Australia with me, aren’t you?” Chris said confidently sliding his palm down Tom’s back and into the loose waistband of his trousers, tracing his crack with his middle finger.

“No I’m not,” Tom said, shocked at his entitlement as he tried to ignore the tantalizing sensation that was making him shiver with want and anticipation. If Chris persisted with that slow mesmerizing rubbing Tom knew he would soon find it hard to not sink down on his fingers, taking them deeper and deeper while forgetting all about the screening and the fans and the Tesseract speech and the Avengers pizza.

Soon enough his sense of time and place would dissolve into Chris’ mouth, around his adept fingers and his large and very persuasive cock. “I’m not… moving to… Australia with you…” he sighed as he felt Chris’ finger pushing into his hole.

“You will. Eventually,” Chris whispered into his lips as he licked them apart.

“Nnnnnnooo I wonnnnn’t,” Tom mumbled making feeble attempts to fight off Chris’ possessive hugging even if he knew that a fight with the tallest, biggest Avenger was always a waste of time.

Tom wasn’t prepared. Chris suddenly squeezed his ribs hard lifting him up just enough to make him lose his balance and drop him on the mattress. He flipped him over and straddled him, pinning his wrists to the bed. 

“Chris. Please,” Tom said with the most composed, the most commanding English teacher’s tone he could muster. “I don’t want to be late. I don’t want to be late for my fans, they don’t deserve to be stood up.”

Chris braced an elbow on the mattress above Tom’s shoulder, his forearm curled around his head as he wrapped his fingers around his reluctant lover’s buckle, releasing him from his belt.

“Did you forget, Thomas?” he breathed in his ear and buried his hand in Tom’s trunks. “I _am_ your biggest fan.”


	5. Men's room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is in Seoul, South Korea, to promote Infinity War and he has no time for unexpected visits.  
> Unless those visits happen during a break from the press conference.  
> Everyone needs to visit the men's room at some point after all.

Tom knew they would end up here. He just knew it. He cursed himself for letting Chris have his way once more while his eager Aussie lover pushed him into the toilet and locked the door behind them.

“N-no, Chris, please no, not now…” Tom mumbled between kisses whenever Chris’ tongue allowed him to breathe. “We don’t have the time. We don’t-”

Chris was already on his knees and looking up, smiling. “Says who…” he groaned. “You know I can make you come in five minutes, don’t you?” he said fondling him. “No? Well let me remind you…”

“You said it would only be a kiss. You promised. I’m-I’m working,” Tom panted as he tried weakly to push Chris’ hands away from his belt but Chris was pinning his wrists against the wall, almost hurting him, nuzzling lazily his crotch until it got too hard and big to tell a lie.

“I didn’t come all the way to Seoul for just a kiss,” Chris smiled smugly at Tom’s unwilling erection. “Tell me now that you don’t like it and I’ll go. Say it.”

“I… I…” Tom was breathing hard. He closed his eyes.

“Yes? I’m listening…”

Chris got up, steadied Tom’s pelvis and rubbed himself against his crotch, making him feel through the fabric their swollen tips as they were touching, searching, yearning for each other.

Chris licked his lips, his eyes fixed on Tom’s. “Do you like that?...”

Tom nodded impatiently, unable to utter a single word.

The truth is he didn’t like getting hot and sweaty; not when he was working, not when he knew he couldn’t get rid of all his clothes. Outside it was cold but the humidity followed them everywhere. Sticky skin and perspiration in the middle of the press conference was most unwanted, especially when he knew his light grey jacket would soon get tell-tale sweat stains in the armpits and who knows where else.  He made a move to take it off but Chris was already on it, pushing it open with rushed moves, the sleeves curled down and stuck to the elbows because of his haste.

“Just take the damn thing off, will you?...” he breathed hotly over Tom’s lips, yanking at the jacket.

“I will if you let me,” Tom said with his arms behind his back, pulling the sleeves down inch by inch, trying to get rid of that straightjacket as Chris grabbed the opportunity to pull down his zippers and rid him of his grey trousers sliding a hand between them. Tom’s cock was pushing its way out of his trunks, the red swollen tip peeking out, curious and unsated, ready to be kissed, explored, devoured. Chris licked his palm between his index finger and his thumb and curled it around Tom’s rod. He smirked when he saw Tom’s eyes fluttering shut with a hitched breath and felt his own member twitch against the zipper as he smeared the stickiness of Tom’s precum all over the head, teasing the slit with his thumb. He started rubbing Tom’s member that was now getting harder and harder under his expert squeezing. Tom let out a long lustful sigh. Chris clasped the balls, massaging them while he jerked off Tom with slow tantalizing moves, pulling up the foreskin every time his firm palm squeezed the tip.

“Oh god, Chris, you’re killing me…” Tom panted half-opening his eyes. “Oh…”

Chris wasn’t done yet. He got down on his knees and gave Tom’s shaft a nice long lick from balls to tip, flicking his tongue playfully over the slit, shoving the whole length in his mouth, squeezing those thick veins with his lips and moaning heavily each time Tom’s cock reached that deep narrow end of his throat. He knew he was driving Tom crazy with his moans and he was about to make it even better: he sucked on his middle finger and traced Tom’s hole, making tiny naughty circles.

“You need to relax,” he suggested as he took Tom’s length in his mouth again with one gulp, one breath, rubbing simultaneously Tom’s puckered opening until it was loose enough to let his hard finger in. Tom’s hips jerked slightly at the intrusion but then he let himself go, easing himself down on Chris’ finger, taking him in, clenching hopelessly around him.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, his glasses steaming with sweat.

“Louder…” Chris demanded as he gave Tom’s cock long flat-tongued swipes.

“Fuck. Me.”

Chris gave Tom’s tip a few more short sucks to make sure his very busy, very professional and very popular lover was writhing, willing, and truly, _undoubtedly_ desperate to get fucked. “That’s better.”

He got up, grabbed Tom from the back of his neck, spun him around and pressed him against the wall.

“You made me wait too long with those stupid interviews,” he groaned huskily in Tom’s ear as he slid inside him with one long push, stretching him open. “Now let _them_ wait… I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit on those bloody chairs and you’ll just stand there for all to see, I’ll fuck your ass ‘til you screa – _AH.”_

Tom was bucking his hips against him, slamming back into him.

“You sneaky bastard,” Chris said breathlessly. “You wanted this all along.”

He pulled Tom’s ass cheeks apart and ground deep into him extracting tiny whimpers of pain and pleasure. With each grunt he’d thrust harder, deeper, ravaging his ass, tearing him open, filling him, fucking him. But now Tom was gaining the upper hand; he had steadied himself with his hands against the wall, pounding back on Chris’ cock; to the point where Chris couldn’t tell anymore if he was fucking or being fucked, his cock trapped inside Tom’s insatiable little cunt, squeezed and claimed and milked relentlessly until Tom’s quick frantic pushes took him all in, filling the cabin with obscene slapping sounds of sweaty skin against skin.

“Come inside me…”

Chris groaned at Tom’s unexpected command, his cock jerking inside that tight hole as if it was their first time. He did remember their first time, when Tom had been such a tease during the filming of “Thor”, playing hard to get for _weeks_ before he let Chris savage him mercilessly in his own bed. He remembered how many times he had jerked off in his shower thinking about Tom complimenting his body during breaks while looking at him with those deep wet eyes, hugging him and rubbing his back when they were having a break for coffee. Chris would have fucked him on the spot if Tom had let him but Tom knew this game better than anyone; the game of making his ass available only to those who waited, only to those who were worth it. Only to those who were willing to fly all the way to South Korea for a quickie in the men’s room.

Tom’s butt cheeks were reaching Chris’ hips now with fast repetitive moves, clenching around him, taking his breath away. Chris steadied him against his cock and took over: he grabbed Tom’s hand that was clasped around his own dick and pounded into his ass hole like a madman, like it was their first and last time together.

 “I want you all inside me,” Tom demanded. “All your cum, all of it. I want it to spurt out of me, run down my crack, I want it to – oh god Chris. Oh god.”

“Tom. Oh. Oh _fuck.”_

Chris wasn’t listening anymore. With one long thrust he shot his thick hot load inside that hard-to-get tightness until there was nothing left in him, until Tom’s orgasmic moans matched his own, until Tom was crying out against the toilet wall, jerking himself fast under Chris’ firm grip, long strings of cum running down the tiles.

They just stood there, leaning against each other with stuttering breath for one long blissful minute.

“How… How can you do that?…” Tom exhaled heavily, resting his forehead against the wall. “How can you always make me come like that?... I swear it never gets old, the sheer intensity, it’s always like the first time. It’s as if… Oh god, Chris, I don’t even know how you do it, how you can make me feel like that every single time.”

Chris gave out a raspy laughter as he pulled some toilet paper. “Was it worth it?” he teased. “Keeping you from your interviews and your obligations? Will your Korean fans forgive me, you think?”

Tom chuckled happily; he was a little boy again laughing at his best friend’s jokes. His best friend, his lover, his Chris.

“They will…” he reassured him and took the toilet paper that Chris was offering to wipe himself. “How about you? Was it worth your time and money flying secretly all the way from Australia to South Korea for just a quick fuck?”

Chris was leaning one shoulder against the wall, tired and sated, entranced by the sight of his lover wiping his ass and cock clean like the proper public school boy that he was. He knew he could keep it up as long as he wanted, fuck Tom from here to eternity, press conference or not. He knew he’d get an airplane and fly to the ends of the Earth just to enjoy twenty hot minutes inside him. All Tom had to do was say the word.

He nodded.

“It sure was…”


	6. Shanghai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris cancels Shanghai where he'd be appearing with the rest of the Infinity War cast. As usual he's too distracted and busy to tell Tom in time.

 

 

“It’s a shame that Chris Hemsworth couldn’t make it.”  
“I know I know…”

Tom played nervously with his fingers as the interviewer asked him what Chris would have said if he was in Shanghai with him promoting Infinity War. He came up with their interview joke from their Ragnarok days, Captain Australia, who would be wearing the Australian flag and riding a kangaroo and using a crocodile as a weapon. He felt silly saying all that, it would sound so much better if it was coming from Chris’ lips.

But Chris wasn’t there, the Chinese audience would have to make do without him.

And so would Tom.

That was a new one indeed, Tom not only missing him terribly but also having to replace him and answer instead of him. RDJ joked saying Tom took one for Chris, and it wasn’t even the first time – Chris had also cancelled his Beijing appearance back in 2013 during The Dark World promo tour. No one made a fuss back then, as a matter of fact no one remembered, but this time everyone was nagging in the social media calling Chris a liar. Tom could never believe such slander but he was still hurt; dear old Bob had no idea how much worse it actually was.

Tom had felt like that before, when he and Chris had spent months together while filming the first Thor film in L.A. and New Mexico. Tom had never felt the need to be with a man before meeting Chris and when they were separated, Tom going back to London and Chris returning to Byron Bay, it just broke his heart. He wasn’t himself for weeks. They kept in touch for some time but missing Chris was unbearable. Back then he didn’t even know how Chris felt, he always sounded so cheerful and aloof over the phone, and Tom could tell they weren’t on the same page. It took him filming two more movies with Chris to learn to move on and not waste time crying over someone who just didn’t seem to be as attached as he was.

That was not the case anymore, Chris was his, Chris belonged to him from day one even if he was too scared to admit it, and now there was the ring on Tom’s left hand to prove it. Whenever he had doubts he would rub it hoping the genie from Down Under would appear in a cloud of smoke. The last time he did that they were dreaming together over the phone about their upcoming meeting in Shanghai, but Shanghai was here and Chris wasn’t. Marvel China said “conflicting schedules” a few days before Chris posted a vid talking about his surf injury. When Tom saw that he was too furious to even call him.

It was Chris who made the call.

“Are you mad at me?”

No “Hello”, no “How are you”, just Chris blurting out a question as if shielding himself from the imminent punishment.

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes and no. Yes because you _didn’t_ call me to tell me about your injury, I had to see it on your Instagram like everybody else. And no, I’m not mad at you for not coming if that’s what you think.”

“Are you sure?...”

If Chris was there Tom would slap him for certain. “Are you sure?” means “I hope you’re not too mad at me because I’m not gonna talk about it anyway, so let’s move on and talk about something else.”

“Yes, Chris, very sure,” Tom sighed. “I’ve grown used to your absence. After all I’ll be meeting you in L.A. for the premiere, one more week of waiting won’t make any difference.”

“I’m sorry, mate, the doctors at the hospital said the injury wasn’t that serious but with all the medication I was taking it was better not to fly yet. And they wanted to see if it would get worse. I swear if it had happened a week before I wouldn’t give it a second thought.”

“Look, Chris, I’m not mad at you for cancelling Shanghai. I’m mad because you didn’t tell me right away.”

“So you _are_ mad. Anything else you’d like to share?...”

Tom slipped a finger under his glasses and rubbed his eye tiredly. “And I miss you… But I guess you’ve heard that a thousand times before and I hate repeating myself.”

“And I hate it when you’re _not_ saying you miss me,” Chris purred. “Can I get that long-distance hug now?”

“No,” Tom said icily. “Come over here or you’re not getting any hugs from me.”

“Hey, I flew all the way to London and Seoul just to see you for a few hours, I think I deserve that hug, don’t be so harsh,” Chris protested.

“A quick shag in the hotel room and in the toilet won’t cut it, I need more than that to forget.”

“How about a long hard fuck the _moment_ I land in L.A?  Have you booked our hotel rooms already? Make sure you pick one with thick walls and that no one else from the Avengers crew will be there or they won’t get a moment’s sleep.”

“Promises promises…” Tom murmured holding back a smile.

“I can hear that smile,” Chris warned. “I can hear it. I’m counting that as a long-distance hug no matter what you say.”

Tom didn’t bother answering, he was too busy grinning happily from ear to ear. “You’re simply insufferable, Chris…” he said shaking his head.

“I know,” Chris said lowering his voice in a sweet whisper. “Love you too.


	7. The press conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris attend the Infinity War press conference in L.A. Chris thinks everything's going well between them but he seems to have forgotten cancelling Shanghai.  
> Tom hasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris' ex-wife is called Lisa.

   

 

“Who’s your favourite character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and why?”

Chris gave a smug smile as he heard the question that was meant for Tom, clearing his throat loudly. Of course Tom would say Thor. _Of course._ He always did.

“I... um... that’s a really good question!” Tom tried to buy some time. From the corner of his eye he could see Chris, dear old Chris in his baby blue suit and trucker stache pounding on his chair in frustration. He was sitting in the row in front of Tom but he was still able to distract him, whistling, waving his hands in the air as if trying to hypnotize him from a distance, to get him to give the right answer to that journalist, to everyone watching the Infinity War press conference all around the world.

Millions and millions of people. It was about time they knew.

_You know who your favourite character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe is, mate, why don’t you just say it._

Right next to Tom, Mark was giving him heart eyes, acting all cuddly like a kitten, almost melting like a chocolate bar in his seat. Sweet adorable Mark.

“Pick somebody!” someone yelped. Chris gave out a confident laugh.

“I... Uh... I’m not gonna pick anybody actually,” was Tom’s diplomatic answer that was accompanied by a few disappointed aww’s.

Typical Tom; Chris rested his forehead on his fist and chuckled.

_Coward._

Tom kept stuttering; he turned to Chris for help, his eyes searching for a nod of approval or just inviting him to answer the question for him. That moment they had turned to each other simultaneously as if Chris knew, as if he was anticipating Tom’s gaze. Chris was always good at this, reading Tom’s mind, helping him out whenever things got too awkward or rough or stressful. Chris’ presence was always soothing and comforting, like a hot cup of black morning coffee.

 “You could have just said your brother,” the blue-eyed Aussie blurted out with a shrug scratching his ear casually. If he had to get the bespectacled damsel in distress out of the difficult situation he might as well offer the obvious solution.

Tom reached out his hand to him graciously. “My brother from another mother,” he agreed in front of a big crowd of journalists.

When they were apart, when Tom was with Taylor and Chris with Lisa, that line sounded so fake. It used to infuriate Chris, how Tom would spit it out like it was nothing, a joke, a catch phrase to get rid of a tedious repetitive question, nothing more. For all his openness to the press about his feelings he never seemed to go deeply into their relationship. Of course back then Tom knew that Chris didn’t want their intimacy to get publicity, Chris always said he wasn’t ready.

But now there was a ring on Tom’s finger. Now things had changed. Now Chris wanted more; much more. He wanted Tom to scream it from the rooftops. He wanted _everything_. And “brother from another mother” didn’t cut it. Not anymore.

“The great privilege that I’ve had is working with every single person on the stage,” Tom continued, microphone in hand, “working even with the gentleman moderator we have in our midst.” He pointed at the tall figure with the thick black glasses and the grey turtleneck standing on the podium behind the lottery drawer. 

Chris threw a glance at Jeff who reciprocated Tom’s generous compliment - a precious thing, addressed to him specifically- with a broad heart-warming smile, his teeth, shining under the spotlight, making a beautiful contrast with his olive skin. The silver-haired actor was gleaming with delight and sending Tom air kisses, kisses that the camera didn’t catch – but Chris did. His forced grin broadened as he scratched his sideburn nervously. Tom kept praising his colleagues and Chris kept staring at Jeff, stroking his ear and squeezing it viciously.

Tom had started “letting it all out” as usual and Chris was biting his nail idly; he couldn’t wait for this press conference to be over and to fuck some sense into him. He was hoping they were reaching the final question.

“Kevin and everybody who works at Marvel created these characters with such precision that what happens in the space between those characters is always unique, and you’re guaranteed to see that tomorrow,” Tom concluded getting a round of applause.

Chris nodded puckering his lips in mocking approval after Tom’s long monologue was over and gave him a thumbs up. He knew he could be just as eloquent when answering, and definitely more entertaining, but somehow he envied how Tom could finish his answer with a perfect sentence, his words always flowing effortlessly as if he was writing an essay. All those months after their reunion he had been showering Tom with compliments – because god knows Tom loved compliments even if he acted all coy about them. Tom would shift from absolute humility and lack of confidence to utter arrogance, and Chris could never tell how he could pull that off; he would call him “the humble braggart” and that was the only thing that would render Tom speechless. Maybe because it was true.

“It’s so not true and you know it,” Tom complained the night before in the hotel room.

“It so is,” Chris insisted. “You’re just _dying_ for compliments, Tom, admit it. You can’t live without them.”

“And you mean you can?...” Tom provoked him.

Chris gave an indifferent shrug. “I don’t need words to make me feel good about myself. All I have to do is look into people’s eyes. Or in the mirror.”

“Oh, in the looks department you surely have no rival...” Tom teased shaking his head with a smile that was betraying more criticism than praise.

Chris turned, the upper part of his chin covered in foam, razor in hand. “Are you calling me dumb?”

Tom let out an awkward chuckle, biting his tongue as his grin spread from ear to ear. “No, Chris, I didn’t say you’re dumb...” he reassured him approaching him from behind, planting soft kisses on his naked shoulder.

“But this is what you implied,” Chris insisted swiping the foam off his chin, letting the water run on the razor.

Tom placed his hands on Chris’ hips. “Why are you keeping this up? I said you’re not dumb.”

“Here’s what,” Chris said staring at Tom’s bespectacled reflection in the mirror. “No more compliments about your eloquence and your intellect.”

“As if you ever gave me compliments on my eloquence and my intellect...” Tom slurred through his teeth burying his forehead between Chris’ shoulder blades.

Chris stared at Tom’s reflection again, shocked. “I’ve been showering you with compliments since that night at the hotel after the Ragnarok premiere, what are you talking about!”

“So you’re not jealous of my eloquence and my intellect?” Tom teased him raising his head to see his expression in the glass, enjoying Chris’ body tensing under his touch.

“I’m a hundred times funnier than you so I don’t really see what I could be jealous of,” Chris mumbled washing the foam off the razor. "I'm so funny I even laugh at my own jokes."

“Oh are you,” Tom mocked him and slipped a hand in the back of his boxers. “I want to see you laughing _now.”_

He knew how to shut him up alright.

Chris blinked in front of the mirror, his eyes glazed with a sudden rush of desire. “Laughing is not what I have in mind right now.”

His breath hitched waiting for Tom’s next move. Tom had never seen him so attentive.

“I bet it isn't,” he lowered his voice as he slid his middle finger in Chris’ warm crack and started massaging the entrance gently. “Anything else that’s crossing your mind?...” His soft dominant voice was sending shivers down Chris’ spine, the circles in his most intimate part getting more intrusive, more persistent.

Chris closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, biting his lip as he felt Tom’s finger probing his anus like he owned every inch of his anatomy.

“N-nothing I can think of at the moment...” he moaned helplessly.

“Let me help you clear your mind then,” Tom cooed in his ear opening the cupboard next to the mirror and grabbing a bottle of aloe vera gel.

“The L.A. sun can be quite nasty,” he remarked casually pouring some gel on his hand, “good thing I bought this for the sunburns, huh?”

“Y-yes....” Chris hissed and hung his head leaning on both sides of the basin, bucking his hips, welcoming Tom’s lubricated intrusion. He was finally eager to be bent to his lover’s will, to be ruined, to be savaged.

Tom kneeled behind him and hooked his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, yanking them down as he stroked Chris’ buttocks, letting the underwear fall around Chris’ ankles. He spread his butt cheeks apart and shoved his tongue so deep inside him that he forced a loud sudden grunt out of him. The sweet and obscene noises coming from Chris’ soft wet lips didn’t stop. Tom could feel Chris’ long throaty moans vibrating through his strong muscular body, reaching his lips as he was eating him out.   

“Oh god, Tom, this... You’ve never done this to me before,” he panted. “Ugh... This is incredible.” He felt Tom’s lips on his cheeks splitting into a smile he couldn’t see.

“Do you like it?”

“Y-yes oh god don’t stop...”

Tom pushed his thumbs further between Chris’ cheeks and stretched his puckered hole digging with his tongue as deep as he could, until Chris’ moans grew desperate and his want unbearable. Chris bent over the basin, jerking his hips against Tom’s tongue. “Fuck me, Tom, _uh..._ Oh god, I... I can’t take this any longer, fuck me already.”

Tom got up. A slow proud grin spread over his face as he bit his lip and lowered his gaze upon Chris’ delicious round cheeks. He fondled them lovingly, wondering what it would feel like if he slapped them while fucking some humility into his lover, how delectable Chris’ shock would be, squeezing around him in pain, milking him against his will.

“If you say so...” he answered reaching between Chris’ thighs and grabbed his balls.

“Ugh... oh _fuck...”_ Chris tried to suppress a groan.

The massaging of his sack put his mind into a haze as his erection reached his stomach.

“Touch me, Tom... Please...”

“No...” Tom breathed huskily as he pushed Chris’ head down. “Not yet. Not- _UGH...”_

With a long hard push he buried himself into that tight hole, gasping for air, the whole length of his cock disappearing inside this beautiful man who had never been fucked before. It felt like heaven. Grabbing Chris’ hips, steadying them against his pelvis, he wondered how he had never tried that in the past – he knew Chris wanted it badly ever since they were back together, ever since he gave him the most delightful blowjob of his life on that hotel sofa. He could see it in his eyes as Chris was gulping down every drop of his cum.

He pulled out slowly causing Chris to pant in pain; or maybe he just wanted Tom’s hot thick rod back inside him to ravage his virgin ass like he owned it. Tom relished watching those huge muscular arms grabbing the sides of the basin for balance, Chris’ tight round ass tilted upwards, that huge manly body begging to be fucked like a girl, pleading for more. Another violent push and Tom reached deeper inside him, Chris’ cheeks rubbing against his pubic hair as he hammered him so hard that Chris yelled even louder. He was taking deep breaths whimpering like it was his first time, making Tom’s need for release urgent and unbearable.

Tom paused. He wasn’t sure if he should add more lube to his dominant pushes or if Chris liked it rough. To answer his unspoken question, Chris turned his head on the side, sweat running down his temples, and reached behind him, searching blindly for Tom’s hip, grabbing it, pushing it against his ass.

“Harder,” he ordered in a hoarse voice, making Tom’s cock spasm inside him. “Ha-harder - _oh FUCK.”_

Tom didn’t need to be told twice - he slammed into Chris with a vicious cry fucking him relentlessly, ramming into his hole, splitting him open, making him groan like an animal. He slapped his cheeks violently before stretching them open with both hands, digging his nails into the tight flesh, dominating it, slapping again until Chris’ pain caused a squeeze so hard around Tom that he felt his cock spasming once more, hard and ready to give out a hot unstoppable flood of cum. But not yet. Chris needed to see himself being ravaged before Tom was done with him. He needed to witness that.

Tom grabbed a fistful of short blonde hair and pulled him up, grabbing his cheek with the other hand to turn his head, forcing him to see their reflections moving together back and forth. Every time his face approached the glass Chris exhaled his hot breath onto the mirror fogging it up. He would get closer with each breath, each grunt, each thrust. _Oh god... Tom... oh..._

“Look at you,” Tom whispered in his ear thrusting into him. “You should have told me, Chris, _-UGH!-_ you should have told me how much you-you wanted to be fucked all this time. How-much-you-liked it – oh god.”

“I’m-I’m not good with words, Tom,” Chris panted turning his head on the side, his lips searching for Tom’s fingers, licking them, sucking them. Tom let out a surprised moan and closed his eyes as Chris’ needy hole tightened around him. “You’re the eloquent one, remember? You- _uh..._ you talked me into this, you should be proud, Tom, really prou- OH GOD... _Oh fuck.”_

Tom rolled his hips and hammered back in brutally, the repetitive slapping of his balls against Chris’ ass causing them both to moan in front of the mirror as they heard their bodies slapping loudly against each other, Chris’ thick cock hard and erect peeking over the rim of the basin. Tom started stroking it slowly.

“Tell me how you want me to do it...” he breathed in Chris’ ear.

“Squeeze harder, baby, that’s it, that’s.... _Uuuuuh...”_

Tom didn’t have to listen anymore, he just pounded into Chris in time with his squeezes. Chris’ ass was his and he was letting him in inch by inch until there was nothing left, until Tom had lost himself between those fat round cheeks that had never let in a man before, and their thirst and want was sucking him back in until Chris was crying out, his moans as intense as his orgasm, his thick sperm spurting out, dripping down the basin in big white droplets. Tom felt his own climax filling his groin with heat and pleasure as he stuffed Chris’ hole with his load, his seed spurting out of Chris’ crack in milky strings.

“Don’t... Don’t pull out just yet...” Chris panted, “I want you all, I want _it_ all... in me. _Tom..._ _Tom, oh...”_

Tom let his head drop on Chris’ back taking in deep sharp breaths. The feeling of satisfaction was unbelievable, the aftershocks of his orgasm long and intense.

“Chris... Jesus...”

He kissed his Aussie lover’s broad back, his neck, his sculpted shoulder blades, he traced his spine with his lips until Chris was able to stand on his feet again. He arched his back as Tom rested his hand on his hip pulling out gently.

Chris shook his head vividly trying to realize what had just happened.

“Are you alright?” Tom said in a soft concerned voice.

Chris leaned against the basin and turned to face him. “Of course. Of course I’m alright. I’ve... never felt better.”

He turned his back on the mirror and pulled Tom closer, enveloping him with his huge arms. “We should do this more often...” he sighed over Tom’s lips in between kisses. “You should shut me up more often.”

“Do you want me to?” Tom giggled, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“What do you think?” Chris said and hugged him tighter.

“So tell me...” Tom asked, ready to tease, “am I still the ‘humble braggart’?”

“Of course! But guess what,” Chris murmured burying his nose in Tom’s hair. “You’re _my_ humble braggart.”

 

“Thank you so much, Avengers!”

Jeff’s loud voice interrupted Chris’ reverie. Another round of applause and the press conference had finally come to an end. Chris got up heading for the exit when he noticed that Tom wasn’t following him. He turned to see his friend, his lover, his very own humble braggart walk across the rows of seats to reach the podium.

Paul was the first to kiss Jeff pulling him into a long warm hug. Josh helped him get off the podium and Chad gave him a bro-shake. As for Tom, he deliberately stalled fixing his glasses and smiling politely at Chad as if telling him “Your turn to hug The Jeff, go ahead”. Obviously he wanted to be the last to greet their beloved host, maybe exchange a few words as well.

_How possessive of you, Tom. And needy._

The Grandmaster of Ceremonies slowly, courteously wrapped his long arms around Tom who patted his back, not wanting to let go.

“That boy loves to get some hugs, doesn’t he,” Chris mumbled to himself.

Jeff was still wearing his microphone so everybody in the vast room could hear their dialogue.

“How are you?” Tom wasn’t trying to hide his enthusiasm, his hand placed firmly on the small of Jeff’s back.

“Oh I’m good, getting ready for my European tour,” Jeff answered as they walked together towards the exit.

“Europe? Are you coming to London as well?”

“Of course!” Jeff exclaimed wrapping his arm around Tom’s shoulder. “November. Will you be there?”

“Definitely,” Tom cheered, “I don’t have plans right now.”

“I see, I see...” Jeff smiled. “Still resting?”

“Yeah, taking the year off, I loved the Infinity War promo tour but it was kind of exhausting. I’m just not ready yet for any big plans.”

“Meeting fans is always refreshing, Tom, you should do it more often,” the older man urged him squeezing his shoulder lovingly. His smile was so big and radiant it could light up the whole room.

 _A bit too radiant,_ Chris grumbled taking a swig of water from his bottle as he walked out of the press conference room with Joe Russo in front of him and the pair close behind him. _And what’s the deal with that hand on Tom’s neck anyway?_

“Not as refreshing as seeing you again, Jeff,” Tom retorted rubbing Jeff’s arm. “And you look dashing, as always.”

Chris sprayed his water all over his new blue suit as well as Joe’s back.

 


End file.
